


The Good Place Is Wherever I’m With You

by burglebezzlement



Category: The Good Place (TV)
Genre: Amnesia, Anywhere with unlimited shrimp and Chidi is a happily-ever-after, Background Chris/Vicky, Canon-compliant through season one finale, F/M, Podfic Available, Spoilers up through season one finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-13
Updated: 2017-02-13
Packaged: 2018-09-23 03:03:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9638108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burglebezzlement/pseuds/burglebezzlement
Summary: Chidi and his faux-mate are out in the big park in front of Tahani’s house, reading poetry to one another. Chidi’s on his back with his head in his faux-mate’s lap. Vicky’s looking down at Chidi with a soppy expression on her face, and Chidi looks alarmed. Maybe even vexed.Just like Vicky,Eleanor thinks. Always overplaying it.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ishie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ishie/gifts).



> Happy Chocolate Box!
> 
> Title is a reference to a Edward Sharpe And The Magnetic Zeros song. Eleanor’s line to Michael about her parents is closely based on one she said in canon in the first episode.

The sign on the wall reads EVERYTHING IS GOOD. 

Eleanor fingers her flowered blouse. She’s not sure why she’s here. She’s not sure what the everything is. But the sight of the green letters against the white wall reassures her.

* * *

Each time Michael reboots The Good Place, he manages to get his little lab rats to run a little longer.

Shawn threatened to cancel him again last time, like he does every time through, but Michael knows his boss. And he knows the other demons. The chance to play against type is as tempting to the demons Michael and Shawn work with as it would be to any terrible suburban amateur dramatist who ended up in the Bad Place (“Accidentally” Threw Star Off Stage As Understudy, x2, -34,250 points).

No, as long as Michael keeps listening to Shawn’s daft theories about the food shops, he’s all set. This time around it’s sushi, which Michael’s not sure about, but at least it’s better than the version where Shawn insisted on Subway sandwich shops. That just seemed gratuitous.

“You’re in The Good Place,” he tells Eleanor, now. 

“Oh!” Eleanor lets out a rush of breath. “Oh. That’s good.”

She keeps chattering while Michael shows her around the town, shows her the many sushi places. Eels Are Us. California Your Roll. “I can’t explain the sushi,” Michael says. “Somehow that just happens.”

“My mom and dad were terrible people,” Eleanor says while they walk down a street paved with cobblestones designed to be just a little too big to walk on comfortably. “They’re probably in the Bad Place. Maybe being used to torture one another.” She looks off at The Good Roll. “It would totally work.”

Michael smiles.

* * *

Eleanor spends her first few days in The Good Place panicking and then trying to relax, and then deciding that hey, panic’s an appropriate response here. There’s nobody she can trust. There’s no indication of _why_ an impartial bureaucracy would suddenly fork up (and it is some total bullshirt that Eleanor can’t even say fork). She has a soulmate, Chris, a seriously hunky mailman, which, cool, but on the other hand he doesn’t even deliver the mail. Because there are no packages in The Good Place. Can it really be a Good Place if the mailmen don’t even have to deliver the mail?

Chris is the one who insists on going to this party some chick is throwing in her big-ass house a few nights later. Eleanor figures, why not. She’s got a banging dress and maybe they’ll have shrimp. 

They do. They have _so many shrimp_. Eleanor’s stuffing a few into her bra for later when she sees a guy in thick glasses watching her from across the room, like he disapproves.

 _Like he can judge me._ Eleanor leaves the rest of the shrimp on the platter and goes over to him. 

“Who do you think you are?” she asks, as she walks up to him, but then he meets her eyes with his soft brown ones and — _bam_ , instant shock, like Eleanor jumped into a cold ocean and can’t come up to breathe. Tingles all over her body. This is it, this is what she’s been waiting for even though she didn’t know —

“Do I know you?” the man asks.

“Chidi.” Eleanor takes a deep breath. The memories are still pouring over her, streaming through her mind. 

Michael’s across the room. She can’t let him know. Can’t let him realize.

“To be continued, Cheedster,” Eleanor says, and then she ghosts the party, leaving Chris behind. Because if there is one thing Eleanor truly excels at, it’s ghosting on a bad situation. Like the one that would happen if Michael figured things out.

At home in her Icelandic Primitive Murder Clown Hut, Eleanor eats her leftover bra shrimp (an _excellent_ idea) and thinks. Remembers.

_Plans._

* * *

It’s a few days before Eleanor figures out how to meet up with Chidi somewhere private.

Which isn’t that bad, she reminds herself, as she watches Chidi from the bushes. Only a few days this time around. Either Michael’s getting sloppy with his memory wipes, or she’s starting to remember faster.

Chidi and his faux-mate are out in the big park in front of Tahani’s house, reading poetry to one another. Chidi’s on his back with his head in his faux-mate’s lap. Vicky’s looking down at Chidi with a soppy expression on her face, and Chidi looks alarmed. Maybe even vexed.

 _Just like Vicky,_ Eleanor thinks. Always overplaying it.

Eleanor lurks in Tahani’s topiary garden until Vicky gets up and says she’s getting them a picnic. “Don’t you go anywhere, mister,” she says, booping Chidi on the nose.

“I won’t.” Chidi looks uncomfortable.

Once Vicky’s gone, Eleanor goes up to Chidi and sits down beside him on the grass.

“We gotta make this fast, Cheedster,” she says.

 “What? What did you call me? Who are you?” Chidi narrows his eyes. “You’re the shrimp thief. From the party.”

Eleanor holds up her hands. “Guilty. But before you call Michael, you might want to hear me out.”

Chidi’s face is wary. “About what?”

“Your name is Chidi Anagonye,” Eleanor says. “Your greatest shame is that you kept drinking almond milk, even after you knew it was bad for the environment. You once lost your dog but you secretly think your dog ran away to find a master who was more fun.”

Chidi just stares at her. “How do you —”

“I’m Eleanor. I know you. You just don’t remember it yet.”

“I don’t think —”

“It’s cool,” Eleanor says. “You’ll remember.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Chidi says. He starts gathering the poetry books from the grass and stacking them on one another. “And my soulmate is going to be back soon, and —”

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Eleanor says. “Vicky and Chris are totally banging. It’s Michael I’m worried about.”

Chidi looks lost. “Who’s Vicky?”

“Your soulmate,” Eleanor says, adding air quotation marks around the soulmate part of it. 

“Wait, what?” Chidi’s voice cracks. “Who’s Chris? Why should I believe you? You can’t just walk up to someone and say something like that and not —”

“Look, I realize, you’ve got some questions. I’m Eleanor, I was your soulmate the first time through. The only other real people here are Tahani and Jianyu. We’re actually in The Bad Place. That’s why you’ve been feeling so guilty since you got here.” She shrugs. “It wasn’t the almond milk thing, by the way. They’re just, like, ridiculously judgy about things. You’re still a good person.”

“I have no idea what — how did you —”

“Ask Janet for the current copy of your book,” Eleanor says. “The current copy, make sure you say it like that. And then check out Page 69.”

“But —”

“We had to make it something I’d remember so I could tell you.” Eleanor looks up. Vicky’s still nowhere to be seen, but Michael’s appeared at the end of the grassy expanse of lawn. “I have to go. Remember. Your book. Page 69. Ask Janet. Tell nobody.”

* * *

Chidi walks into Eleanor’s place, carrying an enormous stack of pages.

“I am _vexed_ ,” he announces.

Eleanor smiles. He’s back.

* * *

Even though he doesn’t remember Eleanor, Chidi’s convinced by his own handwriting in the pages of his book, the one Janet’s able to keep for him just as long as she doesn’t get rebooted. 

“Why hasn’t Michael found this?” he asks, a few days later. 

“Because Michael and Shawn never read your book,” Eleanor says. “So far, anyway.”

Chris is off working out, or rather “working out,” and Vicky’s off on some fabricated errand of mercy that Eleanor figures means they’re probably “working out” together. Whatever. Chidi and Eleanor’s fauxmates getting together is a fortunate twist, since it gives Chidi and Eleanor more time together.

And more time to fork with Michael’s plans. 

It’s the part Eleanor was made for, not that she tries to brag about it. She tries to be humble. The fact that she’s been put here into Michael’s neighborhood as a thorn in his side — she considers it a privilege, really. Letting Michael think he’s winning. Figuring out his plans and going along with them, almost, right up until the very end.

It’s what they did the first time through, or anyway the first time through that Eleanor remembers. Only now Eleanor knows what’s going on. Now she can do a better job.

“I don’t understand why you’re not more upset about this,” Chidi says. He puts the enormous stack of pages down on the table and starts pacing around the room. “This is — this is — how? Why? Are you sure?”

“We’re pretty sure,” Eleanor says, gently. She’s been through this conversation a few times by now. The rough edges have rubbed off for her.

“But we’re in _the Bad Place_ , Eleanor.”

“So?” Eleanor shrugs. “We’ve got unlimited shrimp. And as long as we don’t let on to Michael that we know, we can keep forking with him for years. Who’s to say that’s really bad?”

“I don’t have time for axiology right now.”

“Chidi. Buddy.” Eleanor gets up and goes to Chidi. “We have nothing but time. Unlimited time. Just as long as we keep Michael in the game.”

She reaches out for his hand, but he pulls it away. He’s not there yet.

 _It’s okay_ , Eleanor reminds herself. He will be.

* * *

It’s a full week of Chidi’s stomach aches and ethical conundrums before he remembers. 

Eleanor knows exactly when Chidi’s memories come back, because he comes into Creepy Icelandic Clown Cottage like he knows the place. He walks up to Eleanor and gets close, and then looks down at her.

“Hi,” he says.

Eleanor smiles up at him. Her heart’s beating hard. She’s been here so many times before and it’s always new, always like the first time.

“Hi yourself.” 

Chidi reaches out and brushes Eleanor’s hair back from his face. “I remember,” he says.

“I can see that. Good job, buddy.”

It’s what Eleanor said, the second time through, when Chidi’s memory finally came back, in the middle of one of Eleanor’s elaborate plans to fork with Michael via one of Tahani’s parties and teaching Janet about practical jokes. Michael was dealing with actual live fire-ants in his pants, but it was Chidi who Eleanor couldn’t look away from. 

Chidi smiles, and Eleanor smiles back. 

He brushes Eleanor’s hair back again, and then Eleanor reaches up and pulls him down to her because even with unlimited time, there’s no way she wants to wait a second longer to taste Chidi’s lips on hers, feel his body against hers. Their first kiss. Their thousand-somethingth kiss. Spectacular every time. 

Chidi strokes one hand along Eleanor’s back, slow, like he’s learning her again. Like he never left. Eleanor presses closer to him. All of Chidi — happy and vexed, worried and sad and in love and torn between impossible choices that anyone else would make in a heartbeat. Chidi, who she came back to The Good Place to save. 

Eleanor smiles against Chidi’s lips. They might be in the Bad Place. So what? No matter how many times Michael wipes their memories, no matter how weird the restaurants get, she’s here with Chidi. As far as Eleanor’s concerned, that makes this the Good Place for her.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Good Place Is Wherever I'm With You [Podfic]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12526988) by [blackglass](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackglass/pseuds/blackglass)




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